Mori's Inner Theater
by Amazonian21
Summary: Mori/Haruhi Tamaki's not the only one... How embarrassing. Oneshot, complete.


**Mori's Inner Theater**

By Amazonian21

Rated K

Mori was a quiet man. That was how it was, and how it always would be. He was the 'wild type', the host girls designated when they wanted a wall on which to bounce their ideas of perfect, restrained romance and passion.

Overall, it left Mori bemused and a little confused.

Frankly, sometimes they gave him far too much credit for passions he just didn't have. They saw in him the knight in tarnished armor, ready to swoop in and save the day with a cool toss of the head and a pose that screamed, "I don't need you. I don't need anybody! Don't love me- I would only hurt you in the end." They attributed his silences to great heights of turmoil and a hidden depth of melancholic pining or some such rubbish. They thought his martial arts gave him discipline beyond mere mortal men, turning him into the tamable and lovable beast who would protect them from the world's cruelties and his own dark, base desires. Girls dreamed about having his strength at their disposal, but that didn't really enter Mori's mind.

Honestly, half the time Mori was quiet because he was thinking about a particular move he'd need to master in Kendo- some imperfection in his stance he'd like to iron out the next chance he got. If his forehead wrinkled in consternation it wasn't because he was contemplating the deeper meaning of his mortality, like some girls wished, or struggling against his repressed state as caregiver to his cousin, Huni. It was just because he was thinking, "If I moved my arm here and dropped my shoulder more, would I be losing power just for the sake of reach? When would it be most useful, and when should I ignore the temptation to alter the forms I already know are effective?"

More or less, his deep and pensive looks amounted to him thinking elevator music thoughts, boring and ultimately so much white noise until he could escape to more interesting things.

No, Mori didn't spare much attention to the girls surrounding him in the Host Club. He was largely letting their chatter wash over him like so much ocean tide, waiting to perform his duty as host by wiping Huni's cheeks free of frosting or doing any odd job that came along, be it tucking his cousin in for a nap, finding a lost stuffed rabbit, or swinging his cousin around in an airplane ride, causing fainting spells as clients squealed over the cuteness of it all.

That was his role and he was happy with it. He never wanted to be a hero and didn't want to rescue anyone. He served his cousin because he was content to do so and was a host because it was what Huni wanted. Things were simple. Most of all, things were quiet.

And then 'he' came into the room and broke a vase. Things would never be quiet again.

One odd day the shabbily dressed commoner was glomped by Tamaki and the twins, turning blue in a bone-crushing hug that had him yelling out instinctively for Mori-senpai to save him. And, without reason or thought, Mori had obeyed his instincts and came to the rescue, lifting the commoner into the air and away from the king's octopus-like clutch of doom.

Suddenly, Mori was stupefied as he discovered an alarming new development. His rescue provided unexpected results; he held in his avenging arms not two handfuls of underarm and flat, male chest, but rather underarms and two... small... breasts. This came as such a surprise that he couldn't make a move to set her down for a good ten seconds after the light bulb flashed with startling revelation. The commoner was a female. Huh. He'd just grabbed her breasts. Odd.

Mori had just rescued his first damsel and suddenly, all his designator's fantasies didn't feel so ridiculous or far fetched. Haruhi, just by calling out to him in need, had awakened Mori's protective nature far more efficiently than anyone else ever could have. Huni didn't really need him- Mori knew that if it came down to it, even he was no match for the pint sized martial arts master. Haruhi, however, was something else entirely. She was an interesting female, flawed for all her bravery, with a knack for getting into trouble and needing assistance at the oddest times. Mori adored her for it. She practically screamed, "Help me, but don't think for a moment I depend on your help! I can make it on my own!"

Mori suddenly found himself at a loss. He had no idea what to do with these new feelings and urges rushing around his mind. He envied the twins and Tamaki. They were so unguarded and impulsive that they thought nothing of immediately acting out every wish that entered their brains. If they wanted to grab Haruhi they did. The twins would drape their arms all over her while rubbing their cheeks against her face, pestering her to engage in one game or another with them until she gave in out of self preservation. Tamaki would pull her closer by the hand, launching into a speech of love and devotion (convoluted and filled with weird 'father/daughter' confusion though it may be) and felt free to invade her personal space at any given moment.

Mori could never be that free. What he really loved- what he really wanted to do more than anything- was something that only occurred by chance and rarely when he most wanted it.

Mori wanted to save Haruhi.

Mori, the quiet and stoic samurai- type warrior was finally realizing that maybe his clients weren't as dense or silly as he'd thought them to be. Maybe they'd been on to him the whole time and he'd just never had reason to understand himself. He'd never had a reason to know that he was the type to swoop in at the last minute when all hope seemed lost to save the princess and ride off into the sunset.

The problem was that peril rarely came along when he wished it. Sure there was that time at Kyouya's resort where he'd rescued her from the alligators and got to carry her around, protecting her as they searched for his cousin. That was a memory he'd always cherish. The thing was, there were over three hundred days in a year and only a teeny percentage of those days gave him the chance to be a hero.

So it was that Mori developed something he would deny having until the end of his days. Boredom and the desire to rescue Haruhi from perils combined in a deadly combination to create "Mori's Inner Mind Theater", depressingly similar to Tamaki's ridiculous fantasy-filled delusions.

One moment Mori would be sitting in a elegant chair, pouring tea for a group of chattering magpies, and the next he'd be a million miles away, thinking of much more interesting adventures.

Haruhi would be walking home from school, oblivious to the menacing way the streets darkened as dusk approached. Her book bag would weigh heavily on her shoulders as she trudged along, thinking mundane thoughts like what she would make for dinner and whether or not she had enough bean paste left in the cupboard or if she should stop by the market for more. She would never notice the gang of thugs, all heavily armed and radiating menace, as they clustered behind her, drawing strength from their numbers and feeding off each other's malice.

She would be caught unawares when the bravest of the thugs would walk up behind her and push her forward, causing her to teeter and overbalance as her backpack threw off her momentum. She would pitch towards the pavement, possibly scraping her hands, and turn around to face her assailant, an angry retort on her lips.

That retort would die down, however, as she was hit with the enormity of the situation. Seven villains, all wearing identical leers and making lewd, terrible comments, would loom over her as their leader thoughtfully scratched his chin, wondering what horrors to inflict first.

The leader would just be done uttering his opening one liner- something along the lines of, "Well what have we here? A little mouse?" when suddenly he'd stop, feeling a shiver creep down his spine as the shadows around them began to shift their allegiance to a new presence, a presence filled with the wrath of an avenging angel.

The goon, instincts urging him to flee and save his own sorry skin, would turn around to see that there stood Mori, bright with the avenger's aura of strength, facing down seven armed opponents with a coolness envied by iceburgs.

He'd utter only one word in order to give the thugs a fighting chance to escape carnage if they were smart enough.

"Leave", he'd say, his voice rumbling like the presentiment of an imminent avalanche.

Haruhi would gasp in delight from her position on the floor, hope and relief coloring her words as she cried, "Mori!" with all the trust and faith he could hope for.

The thug, never one to leave well enough alone, would chuckle nervously and refuse to back down. He'd look to his cronies for support, foolishly confident in his ability to overcome the lone avenger through sheer numbers and unfair advantage and would make some ridiculous comment like, "Let's get 'im, boys!" causing them all to rush him at once, weapons brandished overhead with a sloppiness that was laughable.

What would follow was a flurry of movement so fast and precise it couldn't be tracked with the human eye. Mori would dart through the flock of low criminals with precision and grace, reigning liberal destruction as he went. They would fall before him like wheat before a thresher, bowed and humbled in body before their brains had time to recognize their humiliation. In mere seconds all seven would be nothing more than sacks of shattered pride as Mori, not even breaking a sweat, knelt in his final position before Haruhi, raising his narrowed eyes to her wide and appreciative ones, glancing her over for any injuries before rising to stand regally.

Haruhi would raise her eyes up and up and up, noticing how tall and strong and manly he was there above her, an avenging angel of destruction sent straight from heaven just for her. As he would extend his hand from such great heights to help her rise to her feet, she'd pause before touching his palm, as if unsure of her right. Finally, though, she would allow him to gently grasp her wrists, pulling her up to stand with him as he drew her in nearer to his chest.

And he would be so cool after that! He'd look deep into her wonder-filled eyes and trail his hand down her arm until he could pull her palm up for his inspection. He'd say something simple and deep like, "Haruhi. You're hurt."

She'd protest that the scrapes were nothing. They didn't even sting. She was just so thankful he'd been there in time because who knows what could have happened? She might even start to tear up and his course would be clear. He'd draw her in close until her head rested on his chest and he'd let his low voice rumble through her body, soothing her and giving her the sense of security she so craved.

Then, when she was relaxed and comfortable against him, he would draw back a little to see her face. He'd carefully tip her chin up and lean slowly in, savoring the slight gasp she'd give as her lips parted in anticipation. He'd gladly take her silent invitation and would lean forward, closing the distance between them, until...

"Senpai," broke in her no-nonsense voice, devoid of any romance and containing absolutely no desire, "we're out of tea and the unopened boxes are on the top shelf. I can't reach them. Would you help me get them down?"

One sentence would be enough to bring his Inner Mind Theater to an abrupt halt, almost causing him to face plant from the absurdity of it all as he'd mutely, still in a daze, nod his assent and stand to move with halting and awkward steps towards the store room, kicking himself as he wondered how on earth he managed to behave with a degree of idiocy normally reserved for blond host kings.

He'd glance out of the corner of his eye as the commoner of his fantasies went about her business, confident that he'd come through for her once again. She'd continue with her hosting duties, charming girls with her natural and unpretentious, simple conversation and guileless honesty. She was artless and real, never seeking a reaction and never demanding or wanting anything.

Mori would always find it odd that the naive, blunt and oblivious girl would inspire such romantic notions in him. How could he create such outlandish reactions for her in his brain when he liked her because she would never behave that way in real life? It was all very confusing and slightly ironic, but Mori chalked it up to hormones and came to conclude two important things because of Haruhi and her beguiling ordinariness.

First, he couldn't become exasperated with his clients anymore because they were obviously smarter than he'd thought. He also held new understanding for them and the way they looked at his 'type' because after all, wasn't he just as guilty of romanticizing and objectifying as they?

Second, he might not get to save Haruhi from thugs (or, as in another one of his favorite scenarios, push her out of the way of a speeding bus, taking the brunt of the hit in order to shield her from harm. That was a favorite dream because he would end up with her cuddled safely in his strong arms as she sobbed and begged him not to leave her because the world would be so empty without him in it.) or any other great adventure, but he could still save her in little ways every day. It felt nice to know she counted on him to reach things for her, to open tough jars, to lift heavy boxes, or to free her from overly amorous twins as the occasion called for it.

Yes, Mori was a quiet man and was content in the little things, his every day heroics, as he watched the most ordinary girl switch up his quiet life. And if he ever got discontent or impatient, why excitement was only a thought away...

At least until reality interjected and brought him back to the land of common sense.

* * *

AN: First work in... like... 2 years. I adore this anime and laugh so hard every time I watch it. I wish they'd make another season and feature a little more Mori, but that's just me.


End file.
